The Inner Book
by Lee Etscovitz, Ed.D.
Books have always had an important place in my life, perhaps because I grew up in
a household where they were highly valued and made readily available. I guess it
is no wonder that I find myself serving as National Librarian for the Renaissance
Transgender Association. In any case, the fact is that, even in a world of movies, television,
videos, and the Internet, as well as cassettes and compact disks, I continue to value
books highly.
It is always with a mixture of excitement and relaxation that I browse among the bookshelves
at a bookstore, like a beachcomber searching for hidden treasure in the sand along
the water's edge, perhaps finding an attractive and intriguing shell. And then when, out of the possibilities before me, in this case books, I find something of interest
to read, something that somehow reaches, or promises to reach, into my very being,
I obtain it and take it home.
Home is any place, usually a quiet place, where I can begin an inner conversation
or dialogue with a person a writer in this instance to whom I am willing to listen.
And if that writer speaks to my own concerns, feelings, and thoughts, then I feel
he or she is somehow listening to me. I may pause in my reading from time to time, putting
the book aside for a while, even for days or weeks, to absorb what I have been reading,
to reflect on it, and perhaps to consider what I, whether as a writer or not, would say in response.
It is out of this experience with books that I have written the following poem, entitled
simply, "Books:"
Books
await me
on the shelves of my desire.
Oh I shall never tire
of sitting in the quiet
in the presence of these friends
as I open to their voices
reaching out from choices
that I make beyond
all temporary trends.
Sitting in my reading chair
in a world I call my own,
I contemplate the centuries
and pick clean the written bone.
I yearn for special wisdom
to guide my mortal days,
to show me those connections
beyond the general gaze.
And then perhaps
I too will write
my version of the word
and place myself
upon the shelf
that I too
may be heard.
It never occurred to me during my many years with books that what I was reading, as
well as writing, pertained to my hidden but ever-present transgender feelings and
struggles. Yet my own bookshelves which have grown over time reveal in general
an implicit interest in this area. In fact, as might be expected, I now have a growing shelf
of books explicitly dealing with the transgender experience.
Most books on the transgender experience deal with its outer aspects, such as the
medical area (hormone therapy and surgery), electrolysis, and the legal, political,
social, marital, family, and vocational issues and problems. All of these aspects
are most assuredly important, but, aside from a few responsible urgings to be true to oneself,
there is a dearth of written material on the inner struggle which usually seeks expression
on hot lines and in support groups and counseling sessions. Some individuals, like myself, keep a personal journal and even publish their reflections, such as
those represented here. But as a subject for book-length treatment, the inner struggle
tends to remain hidden and untouched, as if somehow what is inside should not or
can not be part of what is outside. The fact is, however, that unless what is inside is
faced, and faced constructively, it can easily become destructive, both inside and
out.
How then, we may ask, can we each deal with what is inside and invisible and thus
very difficult to grasp and handle? My answer is: with difficulty, with courage,
and with patience. If what is inside were instead easy to handle, safe to face, and
quickly resolved, there would be little for me, or anyone else, to write about, at least from
a psychogical perspective. The fact is that we each possess an inner book which is
continually being written, and which no one but each of us can ultimately write.
I myself am continually writing my own inner book. Whatever happens to find its way into
actual print can only serve for others as a pointer to possibilities as each person,
in this case each transgendered person, plumbs the depths of his or her soul for
the ability, the courage, and the patience with which to give shape and form to the inner
journey.
Yes, when we, as transgendered persons, read books (as well as pursue the other media),
we may not only be seeking entertainment but also, as the poem says, be yearning
"for special wisdom." It takes such wisdom, usually hard-earned, to write the inner
book and to place it upon one's own inner shelf for ongoing reference. If we do not listen
to our own words and refer to ourselves, if we do not hear the beat of our own hearts,
we will simply be joining the walking dead, the transgendered zombies among us (such as I was for too much of my life) whom not even the Internet can truly awaken.
It is not easy to be an inner writer, but the result the inner book is each transgendered
person's "version of the word:" that person's life and truth, both inside and out.
Want to comment? Send email to Dr. Etscovitz at hmdm@voicenet.com.
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